


Sin with a Grin

by MaeChrys



Category: BBC Sherlock
Genre: Angst, M/M, One Shot, Song fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-28
Updated: 2013-05-28
Packaged: 2017-12-13 06:30:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/821122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaeChrys/pseuds/MaeChrys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim? I am sorry.<br/>I swear, I've tried. I've tried my best to keep the threads on. I've tried my best not to make everything fall. And yet, I failed. I failed because I always do, don't I?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sin with a Grin

# Sin With a Grin 

 

Jim? I am sorry. 

I swear, I’ve tried. I’ve tried my best to keep the threads on. I’ve tried my best not to make everything fall. And yet, I failed. I failed because I always do, don’t I? I failed because it is just like I failed you when I came home too drunk to understand what you were saying to me.  I failed because it is just like I failed you when you closed me out of the flat until my mind was clearer.  I failed because it is just like I failed you when you told me not to screw it up, and I did.  I failed because it’s just like when I let you go. You told me you weren’t going to come back. You told me your life would have ended that day, on that rooftop. 

And yet I let you go. I thought it was part of the plan. I thought you had something in mind, something you didn’t want to tell me. I thought you didn’t trust me enough, and that was fine, because, look at me, I am not worthy of your trust. I let you go.

And you know why? Because that’s what I do. I let things go.

_I never noticed until I focused_

_On everything you did, you said_

_You lit the fuse inside my head_

You told me once I was the one to teach you to sin with a grin. I wasn’t, trust me, you’ve never needed me to know how to do that. 

And yet, your smile when I woke up in the middle of the night and was sober enough to take in where I was, and why there was a smiling, skinny Irish man lying next to me, on me, all around me, whispering in my hear with his voice that was more mewling than proper speaking, and why our clothes were falling on the floor, why your hands were on my skin, your lips on mine, my hands in your hair, that was enough to keep me going. I knew someone was there, and appreciated me. Liked me, in a perverted, deviated way. It wasn’t healthy, nor normal, but, in the end, who am I to say what’s normal? I liked it. 

I liked to wake up next to you while you were still sleeping, I liked to hear your bossy voice when you called me on the phone, I liked to call you Sir when there was people around, but Jim when we were alone. I liked to strip you off those damned, way too expensive suits and see your face getting all wrinkly when I tore them off.

And you know what I did, with all those things I liked? I fucked them up. Because I always do. I always fuck up what I like.

_Thank you for reminding me_

_Of what I have seeked inside_

_Thank you for the venom, did_

_You think it would paralyze?_

_These scars I scratch, I tear_

_All them under my skin_

_Where you’ve always been_

_Thank you for reminding me,_

_The sin with a grin_

You taught me that I wasn’t sane. That there was something wrong with me. And that was good, because being ordinary was boring. For the first time, I didn’t feel an outcast. My scars were now something to be proud of. 

_You are a good soldier, Moran, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise_.

_They don’t, Sir. They wouldn’t dare._

Those were the first words we had. I don’t remember how we ended up in bed, from that. I just know that was the only thing I’ve ever wanted, when you were hot against my skin, my hands on your hips and your head bobbling up and down, both breathless, both wore out. That was good. That was animalistic. That was me. You looked at me, the first time, and told me that I was your Tiger. That I was a good tiger, and I was doing a good job. Then you screamed, and you came. I can remember that in your eyes. I was there, behind you, looking at you and smiling, because you were oh so perfect.

And you know what I did with that perfection? I destroyed it. Because I always do. I destroy perfect things.

I’ve destroyed you.

I failed you.

_Hey, men_

_Standing on a twisted 2x4_

_Built your house, but forgot_

_To lock the door_

_I’m inside with two black eyes_

_I have not one shred of sympathy_

_I have no use for apologies_

_I’m inspired to find the lie_

And fuck this, Jim. I fucking miss you, you idiot. Because this is all my fault. I miss you because I wasn’t good enough, in the end. I miss you because that’s where I always end, eventually: screwing things up. I am just a big, massive piece of shit, aren’t I? That’s all I’ll ever achieve from life. Being a failure. Failing mom, failing Sev, failing the Army. Now failing you.

I don’t deserve it. 

I have never deserved it. Your big, dark eyes, your soft skin, your hair, that little smirk.  _You_  were the one to teach me to sin with a grin, not the other way round. You taught me to make the devil feel bad for what I did, because, as stupid as it may sound, Sebastian, we really do only live once. So, what’s the point in being good guys, here? We are all ending up down stairs anyway. And then I am going to rule Hell, Sebastian. I am going to become King. 

You told me that, and you smiled. Grinned. Smirked. I don’t know, really. It was the night before the fall. 

_I won’t lose you, Jim. I am not letting you do this._

_Oh, Basher. You will. There is no power on earth that could stop me._

_I can._

And you know what I did with that power? I threw it away. Because that’s what I do. I throw away things that could have saved you. That could have made me still have you here. 

And now I don’t.

And now I am alone. 

Again. 

So, what’s the point in being good guys? 

**Author's Note:**

> The song is Sin With a Grin, by Shinedown  
> Thank you to be so brave to reach the end!  
> -m


End file.
